Of Death and Life
by D McVetty
Summary: Damien is dead center in a love triangle when he realizes he loves the small British boy he spends his time with, but he has become completely smitten with the seldom-seen Kenny McCormick. "Dip" *201 spoilers* - discontinued SORRY
1. Pip

**title ; **Velcro

**disclaimer I ; **I don't own South Park.

**disclaimer II ;** I do own the idea seen here and all that lovely stuff.

**author's note ;** Another thought while in the shower. Don't know how many chapters it will be, but it will be a major love triangle between Pip, Damien, and Kenny. I have half the story plotted and I'm writing it now, while its fresh in my head. This is simply the introduction chapter, and the others will be longer.

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He would have imagined death as something more personal. Perhaps taken in old age, or something that happened to far away people in far away places. Uganda and Peru and Botswana. Places he had never heard of, and wasn't sure how he suddenly knew them. Death happened to old people in hospitals. Not to people like him, people who did good in school and had so much ahead of him. People with hopes and dreams.

Death had never been something on his ten year old mind, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to be on at that particular moment, but with a giant metal foot coming down at you from above, your first thought of many would be, "_Oh, bugger, I'm do believe I'm going to die." _It certainly crossed his mind as Mecha-Streisand's new and improved foot blotted out the sun, dimly reminding him of that hideous movie about three-hundred men wearing nothing but their underwear -

Chances were, this event would not have happened if he had just stayed quiet and run away like everyone else. His caring, gentle nature always got the best of him. He thought, perhaps, if someone tried to speak with the rampaging, mechanical lizard, then _perhaps_ she would see the errors of her way and simply leave them alone. Crazier things had happened. Such as the sensation of being crushed from the top down, like a soda can beneath a boot. A cold, metal boot and ten tons of machinery. Feeling bones pop out of place, knowing your last seconds were spent contemplating the validity of a valiant death, and the only mark you would leave on this world was the bloodstain in the pavement they would rip up in several years anyway.

All of it could have been avoided if he hadn't said those simple words.

"_Cherri-hoh! My name is Pip. I would like to see if you wouldn't mind not smashing our village home to bits?_"

...~...

Falling through the layers of hell, he began to wonder when it would end. The constant screaming, the heavy metal playing in his head, the people grabbing at him and asking for help, it was all a bit much, didn't one think? He hated telling people he couldn't help, or that he didn't know something. Then, just as he was about to sigh deeply and ask someone for a time frame, his feet touched down on fire and brimstone itself, hot to the touch. Stumbling forward from the sudden lurch in position, he coughed. At least that persistent, irritating cacophony of noises had finally gone away.

Righting himself, he patted down his vest, tugging his favorite Gatsby hat down. His eyes scanned the surroundings, though he found nothing of particular interest. Everything either shone brilliant red or deep black. Hell certainly wasn't a cheerful place, but that wouldn't get his spirits down. Instead, he simply took it all in good humor, a smile on his wary face. As he walked towards a seemingly inhabited place, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. Certainly, none of his other friends had perished under the foot of Mecha-Streisand. Had they met such a fate, they certainly wouldn't seek his company out.

Turning in circles to find the voice, he called out, "Yes? Who is it?"

"It _is_ you, Pip!" the far-away voice called in high-pitched excitement.

Biting his lip, he turned towards the voice, his vision suddenly consumed with a pale face framed in black hair. Squeaking in surprise, he fell back onto his rear, looking up at the figure he thought to be several dozen yards away, rather than immediately next to him. Recognition dawned on his startled face and a smile crept across his lips. "Oh, Damien! Why, it is ever so much of a pleasure to see you again," he said cheerily.

Damien pulled Pip to his feet, looking the shorter boy up and down. "So, you're not upset?" he asked.

Pip frowned, as if thinking. "What _ever_ would I have to be upset about, good chap?"

Damien almost opened his mouth, almost asked about the incident at Cartman's birthday party, but instead chose to shrug it off. If Pip didn't remember, then it would be silly to bring it up and perhaps ruin the chances of a playmate in Hell. "Never mind," he answered. "If you don't mind, how did you get here?"

"Oh, it was terrible," Pip sighed. "I was stepped on by Mecha-Streisand."

"That sounds painful," Damien sympathized dully.

"Oh, one would imagine so, yes," Pip explained, nodding. "Quite the uncomfortable experience, though I'm alright now." Pip gave Damien a cheerful smile, though after a second, realized he had lied. "Oh, besides the dead part, of course. I'm _quite_ fine, despite the dead part."

Damien motioned for Pip to follow him. "Lets go to the grand tour," he said, bringing Pip to a small out-hang over a bowl-shaped valley. "Most people think Hell is uncomfortable, but its just a red version of the life you live up there. See, over there is a strip mall. And there, is the I-Hop. Oh, and there's the library."

"There's a library in Hell?"

"Of course there is. My father is building a movie theater, too," Damien said simply.

"Oh, just smashing," Pip exclaimed happily. "I do believe this is far better than anything I've done in life."

Snapping his fingers, a cigarette appeared in Damien's mouth. "It's not that great," he said, puffing smoke out.

"Oh, you smoke?" Pip asked.

"You don't?"

"I never had the chance," Pip said defensively. "I'm sure I would have done it soon enough." Furrowing his eyebrows, he stared at the stick hanging between Damien's lips. "What _is_ it like?"

Handing the British boy the cigarette, Damien laughed. "Try for yourself."

Pip almost refused, putting his hands up, but found himself grabbing the cancer stick and putting it between his teeth. Sucking on it tentatively, he felt his eyes water. Smoke filled his lungs and he felt as if he were suffocating. Quickly handing the cigarette back, he coughed, hitting himself in the chest as tears streamed down his face. After several moments of a coughing fit and listening to Damien laugh, Pip looked up. "Why, that's horrible!" he said hoarsely. "How could you possibly do that?"

Taking a long drag, Damien blew smoke rings. "It's an acquired habit."

"I can see that now," Pip said. "Are there more things to do in Hell than smoke? I do hope so."

Damien shrugged. "If you enjoy torturing people, I suppose there are."

"No, I don't enjoy _torturing_ people!" Pip cried. "That's _barbaric_!"

"Suit yourself, Pip, though you better get used to it sometime. You're friends with the son of the Prince of Darkness now. My interests are now yours." Damien gave him a cocked smile, enjoying his subtle mind games far too much. "You will indulge me, wont you Pip?"

"I do suppose so," Pip answered, seeing no other option.

Wrapping his arm around the boy, Damien grinned. "That's a good Pip."

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**finishing note ;** If I don't get a few reviews, I wont be updating this story. I need encouragement and inspiration from my readers to know I'm doing something right. It would mean a lot and make me very happy if you took a few seconds to say "I enjoyed this" or something similar.


	2. Kenny

**disclaimer I ; **I don't own South Park.

**disclaimer II ;** I do own the idea seen here and all that lovely stuff.

**author's note ;** Thank you much for your generous reviews! I'm excited to get this story on the roll. Never fear, Damien and Pip are going to be the main characters. Please enjoy this intro chapter for Kenny. The story gets deeper in the next chapter. I promise ~

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Death was nothing new to the parka-wearing child from the wrong side of the tracks. His family died, his pets died, and he died - on a regular basis. One could say he danced with death the fastest, spinning around and around in a never-ending ballroom waltz, the music continuously looping. Every time, he came back good as new, happily frolicking among the living once more. Being dead so often gave one an appreciation for life, and he rarely took it for granted. Every day provided a new opportunity to do something interesting and new, which gave him his drive to keep moving forward. He never knew when the right girl for him would come along, flipping her perfect black hair from her pale face, her dark eyes seducing him from under thick eyelashes.

A boy could dream.

Certainly he would have wished to be dreaming as he faced yet another inexplicable death that seemed to be gunning straight for him. No matter what way he sliced it, death seemed to know where he was at every second. So, as he crossed the street in busy Denver with his family, it was only natural what happened next. Karen stepped ahead of him, Kevin pushed him on the shoulder, his mother and father walked hand in hand across the street. Lagging behind, as he often did, Kenny heard the semi downshift, felt the pavement rumble beneath his feet, noticed Kevin's horrified look as he turned around.

By then, it was all too late. Kenny's body crumpled against the grill of the semi, splashing blood across the pavement. Kevin cursed loudly, Karen screamed. The mangled body of the small, orange-clad boy came to a stop as the semi jerked to a shuddering halt. In a short time, Kenny would be filled with life again. As the crowd gathered on the busy Denver street, Kenny floated away, unable to control his decent into hell.

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Damien failed to meet him upon his arrival. Standing alone in a crowded, smelly food court, Kenny kicked at a pile of bloodstained rocks. He would hesitate to call Hell _boring_, since he knew there were plenty of things to do. However, today, he would shout it to the Prince of Darkness himself if he had the chance. In the year since the Terrence and Phillip incident, Damien had met Kenny every time he went to hell. They had a good time, generally, involving movies, re-runs of _Happy Days_, torturing dead Terrorists, and eating cookies baked by the terrible and fearsome Son of Darkness himself, Satan. Thankfully for all involved, Saddam was no longer in the picture, but Satan didn't seem to be over the sadistic weasel, judging by the pictures on his bedroom wall.

Kenny sighed, sitting on a bench. He immediately jumped to his feet, yelping and rubbing his left ass cheek. Looking at the bench, he noticed the splinter sticking straight up. "Only in hell," he grumbled to himself, voice muffled deeply by the orange parka pulled tight around his face. Hell was warm, but Kenny still seemed to find an excuse to keep his parka around him at all times.

He selected another bench, running his hand along it to reduce the chance of a splinter touching him again. Just as he finished his inspections, he heard a familiar laugh. Straining his ears, he wished he didn't have to listen through three inches of parka. Puling the hood down around his neck, he looked around for the source of the laughter. As it rang out again, he spun around, pinpointing the small, blonde British boy tittering away like a drunk. It had been a week since he saw Pip last. After cleaning up South Park and rebuilding, they had found his hat in a puddle of blood and what appeared to be body parts. No one had wanted to find out, so they scraped it off the pavement and tossed it in a trash can behind the rebuilt Bar.

Kenny hesitated for a moment before deciding it wouldn't hurt to ask the boy what he had been up to. No one was _really_ around to see him talking to the uncool kids. He pulled the hood over his head lightly, so he could both talk and hear people. Stepping behind Pip, he tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Hey, Pip," he said.

Startled, Pip nearly fell backwards as he turned around. "Kenny!" he cried out. "Oh, it is ever so good to see you. How have you - oh, dear, wait a tick, are you dead too?"

Kenny arched an eyebrow. "For now," he answered, seeing the strange look on Pip's face. "So... uh... you been doing okay down here?"

"Splendid!" Pip squeaked in excitement. "I've made a wonderful new friend, and he doesn't even call me _Fart Boy_!"

"I suppose that's a step up," Kenny observed, searching for anyone who could be Pip's new best friend in the crowd. There were older men, dirty hobos, a few women wearing Prada. No one seemed to be the right age group to be friends with Pip. In his scrutiny of the crowd, he noticed Damien walking towards them. Kenny smiled and waved, a grin on his face. "Damien!" he called. "You're late!"

Pausing in his step, Damien tilted his head as he moved closer. "I didn't know you were coming down today," he said strangely. His eyes wandered to Pip, then back to Kenny. An awkward silence filled the space between them as they stood looking at each other.

Pip broke it, grinning happily. "Would you care to join us, Ken? We're going to see Shakespear at the new cinema," he offered.

"Us?" Kenny echoed.

"Yes, _us_," Damien said, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Kenny snorted, barely able to contain his laughter. "No," he said. "It's just _really_ fuckin' funny."

"Hold your tongue, or I'll make you bow down and suffer!" Damien threatened, his eyes flashing fire as they often did when he was angry.

"I'm just _saying_," Kenny said, stifling a giggle.

"Come on, chaps, Shakespear starts soon and I'd rather like a good seat," Pip said, motioning for the pair to follow him, excitement plastered on his face. Perhaps it was going to the great Playwright's show, perhaps it was having _two _friends to share his time with. Either way, Pip's infinite good nature couldn't easily be daunted, even by a setting as dreary and depressing as a Shakespearean play in Hell.

Kenny shrugged as Pip led the way, a grin on his face. "After you, Son of Satan," he said, letting Damien go before him.

The cinema was packed, as to be expected of Hell, though being friends with the son of Satan gave certain perks. Damien cleared an entire balcony of the building for the trio. The stage remained empty as the people filed in, fighting and brawling for seats. In Hell, there were no rules or laws. Death and re-death happened often, making a law against violent crimes ineffective. Satan had more important things to tend to, regardless. Kenny shifted in his seat, staring down at the stage. It dawned on him, suddenly, that _seeing Shakespear_ meant literally seeing the man. He looked at Pip, who shook in excitement like a Chihuahua.

"Is this a movie, or the real deal?" he asked to clarify.

Pip shot him a wide grin. "It's really him! It's really Shakespear! Isn't hell wonderful?"

Kenny rolled his eyes, kicking back in his chair and propping his boots up on the wall. "Sure, Pip," he said idly. "If you think so."

Kenny could only hope that Damien would grow weary of the overly-exuberant British boy, and soon.


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